My So-Called Sex Life

Cramping My Style

Thursday night was to be the first of my 2008 Let's Have Sex Resolution. But when Aunt Flow from the Redlands made an unscheduled visit I put my grand plans on hold a few more days. Finding a correlation between Aunt Flow's stop and interrupted sex, I joked to Rex that it was simply a small "lay over." I found that funny. Rex? Not so much.

Unlike some of your comments, there is no way I'd have sex during my period. And even if the "Eww ga-rowwwwssss I'm not staining perfectly good sheets" factor didn't come into play, I couldn't have hanky panky anyway. I'm simply in too much discomfort this month. And it's not just my abdomen that is cramped.

My back was tweaked from falling over Pipsqueak onto my mom's Mexican tile that day (Three-year-olds: Even though you've had them for over 36 months, they still find a way to sneak up on ya). The cold weather increased my toe pain, still sore from being broken over a year ago. My tail bone was wonky from bowling with Stink. You know that sign, "DON'T CROSS DOTTED LINE  FLOORS SLIPPERY"? They mean it.

I whined to Rex, "Do you have any idea what it's like to have a part of you so stiff and throbbing, yet there's just no release?" I totally didn't mean that as a rib, but the minute I said it, I burst out laughing. Again, he didn't find that funny.

Lucky for us, there's always something to be done if romance can't be accomplished. For us it's making dinner together. Or going for a walk. Or having a glass of wine. Or reading a book out loud like we did on our honeymoon. (Nothing screams "Romantic Getaway" like back-to-back chapters of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. We're just that cool.) We could even just watch TV and cuddle up on a blanket. Instead, we opted to just be in the same room together...

...hearing the sounds of each other breathing.

Nothing in between us, except for...

...one giant server...

...and two monitors -- with him practicing his Age of Civilization computer game and me scouring E-bay for practical treasures no good wife and mother could do without, like vintage nativity sets featuring Snoopy as the baby Jesus. And Garfield jelly jars  three for five dollars. And pet ponchos in styles ranging from rabbits, bats and wiener dogs. The fact that we don't own a dog does little to damper my lust for bargains.

I considered interrupting Rex's game to show him the wiener dog. It really was hilarious  this little sausage hound strapped between two styrofoam buns, but then I realized:

A) He hates being interrupted while he's "Building his wonder!!!" (Don't ask) and B) A wiener dog (and buns) might bring us back to me making fun of the situation... which of course I would be. And that's just not nice.

What I did do, however, was log off the computer earlier than normal. I went into the kitchen and squeezed him a glass of orange juice with fruit from a friend's tree. He's always talking about his days as a child in his Grandma's backyard. She had a fruit tree, and he loved nothing more than to pick the oranges and sip their orangey goodness. Using the same olive green squeezer he had as a kid, I brought him the nectar in a wine glass, quietly setting it on the desk. That stopped him dead in his tracks.

Rex: "What's wrong?"

Me: "I messed up your game?"

Rex: "No, it's fine. I mean... that was so sweet of you. That was so... unlike you."

Me: "You're welcome?"

Rex: "I love you. I really do."

Me: "You, too."

With that he drank his juice, played a few more rounds, then joined me in bed upstairs. Maybe that night the sex fantasy of our dreams didn't happen, but we still managed to make ourselves feel good by being together. He really dug the juice, and remarked that it wasn't the big things in life that made him happy. "It's the little things that count."

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